


The Girl

by thetinymouse



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Masks, Mildly Dubious Consent, Slow Burn, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-06-07 12:26:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15219131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetinymouse/pseuds/thetinymouse
Summary: Before Greta Evans can take the job of nanny to little Brahms Heelshire, the position is taken by one Angela Carter, a woman who really doesn't know what she's gotten herself caught up in.





	1. Chapter 1

 

For one Angela “call me Angie” Carter, life was… alright. She was not particularly happy, nor was she particularly sad. She had a job that kept a roof over her head, and also afforded her clothes and food when she needed it. Her family was normal, not abusive or neglectful in any way, and she grew up as a relatively spoilt child whose parents could afford to give her nice things when she asked for them.

And yet…

And yet.

Life provided little excitement or adventure for her (not that she sought them out specifically) and instead she trudged along her job, her home, her city, her very existence with the same dreary outlook many of her generation had, not really hoping for much apart from small continued comforts.

What her mother called delayed teenage angst, and her therapist simply called depression, was just another factor she could count as having in common with thousands of other people. She did not feel special, unique, or particularly singled out for her mental health – everybody she knew had some sort of issue going on in their lives, that was just how things went for all of them.

Perhaps, in the end, it was the lingering hope of something _new_ that pushed her into looking further than her big city for other opportunities, and perhaps it was the need to care for someone other than herself in the chance that she could possibly do a better job at it that caused her to throw caution to the wind and answer the ad a couple had posted, asking for a nanny for their young boy.

Or perhaps it was simply fate. Or life. Or God. It did not matter – Angela “call me Angie” Carter would never again leave the small hamlet where the Heelshire family resided.

\--

The little village Angie arrived at after hours of travel was pretty much like every other little English village there was to be found in the countryside. Small houses with neat gardens lined the quiet streets and a few people milled about them, each casting curious glances at the obvious outsider.

Her appointment with the Heelshire family was not until the day after tomorrow, but Angie had decided to get there somewhat early to familiarise herself with the area, hoping to find some common ground with the people she would be sharing living space with for the remainder of the summer months.

Though July was in full swing, the sun seemed bleak against the curtain of clouds that it was hiding behind, and Angie felt a shiver work its way through her spine. Wrapping herself more carefully in her cardigan, she aimlessly ambled about the main street in the hopes of finding the Bed & Breakfast she had booked a room at while carefully heaving her large suitcase after her. She doubted she’d have much trouble finding it considering the small size of the village but hesitated when she saw an elderly lady glance at her from her seat on a bench by the road.

Seeing as the sun was making its inexorable way down and she still needed to find a place to eat for the evening, she decided to ask the woman who was now blatantly staring at her for directions as she made her way over to her.

They quickly exchanged pleasantries and small talk before Angie received the necessary information she needed to find her lodgings, including a small titbit about the Heelshire’s the old woman felt the need to divulge.

“They are a strange lot, dearie. Kind, but strange. Their boy is… Well, I would not linger there if I were you.”

Angie could only offer a slightly awkward smile at the unasked-for advice concerning her new employers and their charge. Waving goodbye, Angie quickly made her way towards her accommodations for the next two nights before she would be moving into the mansion the Heelshire’s owned, working as a full-time nanny for their young eight-year-old son.

The B&B she found herself at was a charming cottage-like building with wild lavender growing all over the place, which offered the surroundings a heavenly and calming smell. Feeling like she could just drop on her bed and sleep like the dead until the morrow, Angie eagerly made her way to the open front door where she could see a young woman sitting at her desk reading a magazine. She knocked, announcing her presence.

The woman was quick to welcome her after a minor jump scare and a shared laugh. Her room calling her name, Angie was quick to wave off the helpful receptionist, foregoing dinner in favour of sleep. She trudged to the door bearing the number on her key, opening and locking it after herself.

The room was soothing after the bustle of her journey, done up in blue shades with dark wooden furniture. The piece de resistance was of course the bed, which looked like a fluffy, pillow-ridden heaven to her fatigued eyes. Eagerly, Angie opened her suitcase to grab her toiletries and rushed to the en-suite to do her evening ablutions before tearing off her clothes and jumping on the cool sheets, wiggling her way under.

Her sleep was, blessedly, quiet.

\--

Her last day of freedom from work was mostly spent acclimatising to her new surroundings and chatting with the locals, getting to know them and hearing a lot more about the Heelshire’s than she would have like after she’d divulged where she would be based as of the next day. Gossip, as always, spread fast.

Having ended up in the only pub in the village, she slowly sipped at her lukewarm pint while she watched the people mill about her from her little corner. Enjoying the peace and quiet, she’d taken to sketch small drawings of those around her, such as the old man reading his paper or the young lad’s face etched in victory as he won a round on the quiz machine. Her peace, however, was interrupted.

“Hey, aren’t you the bird who’s going to work for the crazies?”

Unlike in the movies, nobody stopped to watch the show and no pin could have been heard dropping in the room as a gentleman with ruddy cheeks and breath that smelled of beer accosted her in her corner of the world. He was not particularly rude towards herself, apart from unexpected, yet Angie felt uncomfortable at his sudden appearance.

The man, who could have been no older than late forties, towered over her small frame. Staring up at him trough her bangs, she simply nodded.

“I will be working for the Heelshire’s as of tomorrow, yes.”

The man simply shook his head at her, wagging his finger in her face.

“Nah girlie, you dun’ wanna do that. They’re simply not right in the head.”

Angela could only meekly smile at him, more and more discomfited at what was happening. She did not enjoy talking to people in general, no less drunk ones!

Thankfully, before she needed to do something drastic (such as jump out of her seat and run away), the voice of a younger man cut through the tension she felt.

“Come now Gary, leave the girl alone! Can’t you see she don’t want to talk?”

The man that seemed to have come to her rescue was handsome she guessed, at least by normal standards. He winked at her and she quickly hid her curious gaze behind her bangs once again, peering through the strands to see what was happening in front of her.

The newcomer slapped a hand on the one he called Gary’s shoulder, light-heartedly ribbing him about accosting pretty young women in pubs (wait, was she one of those “pretty women”?). After a quick exchange the older man, Gary, waved him off and trundled towards the bar in search of a refill. The younger one took his place in her space, and even sat down in the seat left free in front of her. Angela could only stare bewildered at him. Were all people so forward around here?

“Sorry about him, he’s harmless but just can’t hold his own very well after a few pints. Don’t mind the pub talk too much as well, the Heelshire’s are kind people who wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Angela could only nod at him to show she understood.

“Name’s Malcolm by the way, I work for them. The Heelshire’s I mean. I deliver their groceries once a week, so we’ll be seeing more of each other!”

For some reason he looked quite excited about the prospect. Angie only remained silent, a rictus of a smile straining her lips.

The man, Malcom, seemed to understand her reluctance to talk.

“Don’t worry too much, you’ll be fine. Say, have you got a ride for tomorrow yet? That is when you start, yes?”

Angela only nodded.

“Sweet, I can give you a lift if you’d like, I need to go up there to give them their weekly groceries anyway. Wait, you nodded to show you started tomorrow, right? Not about the ride?”

A small, more genuine smile stretched Angela’s lips at the somewhat amusing exchange.

“I do start tomorrow, and no I don’t have a ride yet.”

“Great! I mean, not great that you don’t have a ride, but that – well – you know what I mean.” Malcom gave her a cheeky grin and she laughed softly.

“Well, how can I refuse such a gallant offer?”

“Right, well I usually go there about midday, will that work for you?”

The two continued to chat throughout the evening, Malcolm never pushing more than what he realised Angela was comfortable with. They parted amicably as the pub started closing down, plans for the morrow set in stone.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the Heelshire's.
> 
> (Note: Some text has been lifted directly from the movie.)

The ride up to the mansion was a lot longer than Angela thought it would have been, envisioning a ten-minute ride at the most. Instead, the scenery blurred by the car window as half an hour trickled along. Malcolm was humming along the radio, sometimes making idle small talk but mostly remaining in comfortable silence just as she preferred.

Feeling the car starting to slow to a stop, Angela stirred from her half-sleep against the window and watched as Malcolm sprang out of the car to open up a set of imposing iron gates before climbing back in and driving through.

While the scenery had not yet changed, it somehow seemed more foreboding than before and she tried to stifle a full-body shiver. The way up the winding road was not long and soon enough they came upon the mansion itself. The building was magnificent, Victorian in style and sombre to look at, yet no less imposing.

The car came to a stop in front of the main entrance, and Angela quickly hopped out to look more closely at the architecture that made up the building she would be living in for the coming months during the Heelshire’s vacation.

Still, the foreboding feeling lingered.

Following Malcolm, they both entered the grand doors that made up the main entrance to the mansion, Angela lugging her suitcases behind her.

“You can drop those off here, I’ll help you get them upstairs later. I’ll introduce you to the family in a bit, just have to drop off the groceries in the kitchen.”

Nodding to show comprehension, Angela followed suit to the kitchen taking in every little detail she could see. The home was outrageous in its grandeur yet still remained quite refined in taste. Paintings decorated the walls, sculptures and delicate vases dotted throughout the hallways and rooms they passed. Humming a slight tune, Angela’s eyes darted from one piece to another, already taking a liking to the place she would soon call home.

Angela hung back from Malcom as they came across a large painting of who she assumed to be the Heelshire’s and their little boy. She was about to go and get a closer look when a noise like a soft thud came from her side, startling her. Jumping, she faced the way she’d heard the sound come from to see nothing but a bare wall. She huffed, annoyed at scaring so easy, before hurrying after Malcom who’d already made his way to the next room without her.

Together they made quick work of putting away the groceries.

“What should I expect from the Heelshire’s? What can you tell me about the boy?” Angela asked, unable to contain the curiosity that had been plaguing her since she’d heard the first comment about the family in the small village.

“Well, how to put it… I don’t want to ruin the surprise, but I can say this: Brahms is a very special little boy.” Malcolm seemed slightly awkward as he said this.

Curiosity in no way abated, Angela simply stared at him for more information.

“I won’t say more than that. In any case, I can finish putting everything away on my own, they will be waiting for you in the sitting room. Just go left there, you can’t miss it.” Smiling, Malcom shooed her away from the kitchen. “I’ll be joining you in just a few minutes!”

Right, game face on Angie, you’ve got this.

Taking a deep breath, Angela made her way to the sitting room to finally meet her employers. Knocking on the door, she waited to be invited inside.

Walking in, she first met the gaze of the older woman standing by a lounge chair, seeming to have been talking to whomever was sat in it. Next to her was an older gentleman, who was now gazing at her steadily.

“Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire, it’s lovely to finally meet you.”

Stepping forward with her hand extended, Angela shook both of theirs. ¨

“Miss Carter, yes? We have been waiting for you, Brahms has been quite excited to meet his new nanny.”

Smiling, Angela asked, “When will I be meeting Brahms?”

Mrs. Heelshire’s eyebrow rose, “Right now, of course. We’ve had a number of nannies come through already, we hope you will be the last. This is our son, Brahms.” Both the Mr. and Mrs. parted from the chair, finally allowing Angela to gaze upon the person sat in it.

Widening eyes took in the small porcelain doll of a young boy, neatly dressed in a suit and staring ahead with empty eyes made of glass. Confused, Angela looked first at Mrs. Heelshire and then at Mr. Heelshire. Both only stared back expectantly. Unsure how to proceed, she was very thankful when Malcom made his way into the room.

“Hey, I’ve put away the groceries, and the bill is on the table.” Approaching the doll, the man swept down to one knee and shook one of its small hands, “Hello Brahms, are you being a good boy today?”

Angela was still quite confused, but more and more bits and pieces were clicking together in her mind. The villagers’ vehemence about the queerness of the family, Malcom being cagey about the boy, the Heelshire’s need for a nanny for a doll. She might not have been a psychologist, but she could recognise coping dynamics when she saw them. She herself had needed a fair few when dealing with the worst of her depression, so who was she to judge? Sure, being a doll’s nanny was not something she had expected when coming here, but she could deal. She was good at dealing.

Sucking in a fortifying breath, Angela took her turn to reach for the porcelain hand, a small smile on her lips. “Hello Brahms, I’m Angie. It’s a pleasure to meet such a charming young boy.”

This must have been the right thing to say as both the Mister and the Missus smiled in turn.

“Very well now, since introductions have been made it is time to look over the rules.”

What followed was a whirlwind of things to remember as both Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire showed her the ropes of caring for the mansion and, of course, Brahms. Mrs. Heelshire gave a demonstration of waking and clothing the boy, as well as told her about playing the music loudly and ensured she read him stories and poetry everyday in a loud, clear voice.

Upon being asked, Angela was quick to reassure she loved both and enjoyed playing instruments as well. This seemed to please Mrs. Heelshire immensely and she pointed out the various instruments that they owned, should Angela feel the need to practice.

“Music gives him so much joy, you see.”

Mr. Heelshire on the other hand focused more on the upkeep aspects of the rules she was to follow. While cleaning out dead rats was not something she was looking forward to, she knew that country houses could easily become ridden with the pests unless taken care of and she did not want to worry about rats possibly nibbling on her toes as she slept.

As they made their way around the mansion, checking all the traps, they engaged in small talk.

“I understand what this must look like to you, Ms. Carter, but he is all we have left.”

“You do not need to worry Mr. Heelshire, I do understand a bit.”

The older man regarded her silently for a short while. “Brahms is not like other children, it is very important that you follow these rules. Be good to him and he’ll be good to you.”  
Angela could only nod.

\--

Upon returning inside, she was showed her room as well as given the set of rules she was to follow neatly written down on a piece of paper by Mr. Heelshire to make it easier for her to remember. She was to spend the night first to see if Brahms had agreed to have her as his nanny.

Dinner passed mostly in silence, Angela sneaking glances every so often at the other around the table, observing the untouched plate of food set before Brahms’ unmoving body.  
“It is very important to put the food in the freezer when finished,” Mrs. Heelshire instructed as she placed the Tupperware exactly where she said Angela should after every meal. Briskly, she washed the dishes as Angela helped dry them, before they all moved to Brahms’ room.

There, Mrs. Heelshire showed her where the pyjamas were put away and what to do in the evenings with the boy.

“Please, would you give us a moment with our son?”

Angela awkwardly stood outside of the closed door, trying to figure out what was being whispered behind it without make it obvious she was trying to listen in.

In the end it did not matter as the door opened back up to Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire, “He wants you, Ms. Carter.”

It seemed like the doll’s word was all she needed to be hired, and so she was to spend the first of many nights in her new room.

The next morning dawned after a long, easy sleep though Angela woke to a shout of dismay originating from Brahms’ room. Quickly throwing on some clothes, she rushed to the origin of the noise to witness Mrs. Heelshire sorting through toys that had seemingly been thrown about the room, muttering about bad boys and not doing as told.

“How could you? Oh, what have you done? Wait ‘til I tell Daddy, I can’t believe you’ve done this.” She crouched down, picking up a few items before setting them aside and kneeling before Brahms. “Mummy has to go now, and you have to be a good boy. Because you promised us.” She seemed so sad, Angela didn’t know what to do or say.

The matter was taken out of her hands as Mr. Heelshire popped up behind her, making her jump.

“I apologise for the rush, Ms. Carter, it’s been so long since we’ve been on holiday and we are anxious to be off.” He guided her away from the room and towards the main entrance. “Besides, Brahms seems so, so fond of you. I only wish we had an opportunity to explain to you the particularities of a child as unique as our Brahms, but eh, you’ll pick it up I’m sure.”

They stopped on the way to review the set of rules she’d been given the night before, Mr. Heelshire making sure she understood the severity of following the schedule so as not to upset Brahms.

“I’m afraid we have indulged him a bit,” he looked fretful as he said this, before shaking his head and continuing on his way.

By the time they made it downstairs, the cab was already waiting. Calling down for Mrs. Heelshire, Mr. Heelshire made sure to give a few last pointers.

“Malcom will be by once a week with groceries and your pay, and he can answer any questions you might have.” He trailed off a bit, uncertain.

Afterwards, as Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire said their goodbyes to their son, Angela carefully took him from his mother as she passed him to her, keeping a good grip on him. Again Mr. Heelshire repeated his foreboding words. “Be good to him and he’ll be good to you. Be bad and – ”

“Oh, I’m sure she won’t,” Mrs. Heelshire interrupted. She seemed to be about to cry as she watched the both of them, placing one last kiss on the doll’s cool cheek and then embracing the young woman holding him.

“I am so, so sorry,” she whispered in her ear.

Before Angela could react to her odd parting words, Mr. Heelshire called out, “Come along Mummy, it’s time.”

Regretfully, Mrs. Heelshire left the two of them stood on the front porch waving goodbye as the older couple left in their cab.

“It’s just you and me now Brahms,” Angela sighed, making her way back inside.

The resounding sound the door made as it shut behind her felt strangely final.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is number two! I still have the third and most of the fourth chapter written, after that all will depend on my work schedule for updates as I tend to be dogtired most of the time...  
> Hope you all enjoyed meeting Angela the previous chapter!  
> Thank you for the comments and kudos, guys.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Angie proves herself to be kind and very much naive in general of people she doesn't know.

The first few days felt very strange to Angela as she spent them caring for a lifeless doll. She had, at first, considered not following the rules she’d been given as in the end no one but her would know, yet she couldn’t quite make herself forget the sad faces of the Heelshire’s as they left and felt guilty for simply thinking it would be alright to ignore what she was being paid to do.

Her days consisted of carefully carrying the doll around whilst chattering about inane things as she went about her business. Since she had no cell service nor wi-fi she couldn’t pass time like she usually would by browsing the web, so she filled her time with reading from the endless number of books found around the mansion.

Be they poetry or fiction or biographies, she read them all aloud for her small charge, most of the time comfortably sat in one of the many lounge chairs dotted about the sitting room, sometimes even guiltily enjoying a glass of wine. She’d started off stuttering many of the words she tried to read aloud but as time slowly went by, her voice evened out and she got used to it, barely tripping over complicated words anymore.

Everyday she would empty the rat traps, taking little Brahms with her as they walked around the mansion grounds and enjoying the remaining summer days before autumn would inevitably come. The chore itself was horrid, but very much needed, and as much as she abhorred touching the dead rats she persevered – thoughts of them nibbling on her toes as she slept were a powerful motivator, no matter how ridiculous it might have been.

Apart from this, she would make breakfast, lunch, and dinner, often easy to cook meals made in large portions that she would then ration over several days to avoid having to waste much time cooking, something she did not particularly enjoy apart from the fact it kept her fed and alive.

The biggest change from how she previously spent her time before her new job as a nanny was how much time she spent playing the various instruments the Heelshire’s had around the house. Always good with music since a young age, Angela had easily taken to the piano as a young girl before trying her hand at the violin (a bit strident in her opinion) and the cello (a heavy thing to carry, but it produced such lovely sounds).

When not cooking, cleaning, or reading aloud from the books, Angela spent her time practicing the piano or the cello, getting her finger used to the keys and the strings again as she properly played again for the first time in several years, slowly building up callouses that would keep her fingertips from possibly bleeding should she play too long.

The first time she managed to complete a piece on the piano with no errors, she nearly burst out crying – music had been a source of comfort for her throughout her life, yet her recent depressive episodes had taken much from her, especially this. She now felt, if not healed, better.

She enjoyed feeling better.

\--

Something Angela noticed quickly was the odd disappearances around the house. She would put down a book and find it somewhere else hours later, or have a piece of clothing simply vanish, or her shoes misplaced, and even the food she would place in the freezer would be mysteriously taken away when she next looked.

Considering she lived alone, she at first thought that maybe some kids from the village were having a laugh at her expense, or maybe Malcolm even though he did not seem the kind of man to do such a thing. For a brief moment she entertained the thought of ghosts, but quickly banished it away as it was absolutely ridiculous. Still, it remained a mystery she was eager to solve, alone in the big house as she was.

And so, Angela’s days continued on mostly uninterrupted from her normal schedule, until a knock at the front door of the mansion brought her out of her musings on who could possibly be playing the continuing disappearance prank on her. As it was not a Friday but a Wednesday, she was not expecting Malcom for another two days nor was there anyone planned to arrive that day as far as she knew.

Curious about who could possibly be waiting outside the door, she made her way over to open it. Wide honey eyes took in the pretty woman stood on the front stoop, from the top of her dark head of hair to the suitcase sat at her feet.

A slightly bewildered smile was gracing the strange woman’s face as she spoke with an American accent quite foreign to the English countryside, “Hi, I’m here about the nanny job? My name’s Greta Evans.”

“Oh! Well, this is awkward.” A beat of silence as the two women stared at one another. “It’s, uhm, nice to meet you Greta but the nanny job’s already been taken. By me?” Angela’s smile was more of a grimace as she looked at the other woman who now seemed more worried than anything else.

“Wait, what? How is this possible? I spoke with the Heelshire’s only a few weeks ago and they said everything was ready for me to come here. Are, are they here? Can I speak with them?” Greta fussed with her jacket and wrung her hands nervously.

Angela shook her head, feeling even more awkward now, “No, they left for their holiday nearly two weeks ago now. They never mentioned to me that they were considering someone else for the job – I’m so sorry you had to trouble yourself to come all the way here.”

Greta stood in shock in front of the open door, seemingly unable to comprehend the situation – something Angela could sympathise with, as she wasn’t quite sure how on earth this had come about either.

“I can’t – I can’t go back, I’m – no, I can’t go back!” Greta seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating.

Feeling a freak out coming on from the both of them, Angela quickly steered the other woman inside to the sitting room before shooing her into one of the plush seats dotting about the room. In a rush, she hurriedly made her way to the kitchen to put the kettle on before going back to the distraught woman.

Handing her a steaming cuppa, Angela motioned to Greta to take a few sips hoping it would calm her nerves – thankfully, it seemed to work after a few minutes.

Greta slowly broke the silence, looking a tad hesitant, “I don’t know what to do, I put everything away for this job, and now I find out it’s already taken?” She let out a bitter laugh, “Just fucking great.”

Angela hesitated before she spoke, “If I may, why can’t you go back home? I mean, I can understand if it’s because it’s expensive to get plane tickets…”

Honestly, she though the situation extremely odd and was very much unsure on how to go forward.

Greta barked out a small laugh, looking up at her from her tea, “We’ve only just met you know, in fact, I don’t even know your name though you know mine.” She let the sentence hang, quiring a brow at the woman sat opposite her on the settee.

“Oh! Gods, I really do have awful manners sometimes!” Waving a hand in contrition, Angie quickly continued, “I’m Angela, but please call me Angie. And if you truly can’t go back yet, I’m sure it’s alright for you to stay a while until you know what to do next.”

A look of utter and complete gratitude appeared upon Greta’s face as she set down her tea before taking one of Angela’s hand in her own, “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much.”

Slightly unnerved by how much this gesture obviously meant to the other woman, Angela patted the other’s hand awkwardly before standing. “Well, if you’re going to stay here a while we’ll need to find you a room, as well as introduce you to Brahms. I don’t know what you’ve heard from the Heelshire’s but, well…” She cleared her throat, “I guess you’ll just have to see.”

Making their way up the stairs to the spare rooms, Angela showed Greta to an empty bedroom that, while not as lavish as her own was, was still much nicer than what one would find outside of old manors such as this one. After stowing away her luggage, Greta followed the other woman downstairs to the sitting room again to pick up their tea, listening to her as she spoke about the rules to follow and of Malcom, the delivery boy who came once a week with groceries.

“Alright, I’ll take you to meet Brahms, we were practicing the piano when you knocked. And please….” Here Angela hesitated slightly, “Please don’t react too badly.”

Slightly mystified, Greta promised “Of course, but is he… I mean, is he alright? Like, is he a special needs kid or something?”

Angela could only shake her head at her, opening the door to the music room, “You’ll see.”

\--

Greta’s first interaction with the doll that was Brahms did not go too well. In fact, she burst out laughing.

“This is a joke, right? Where’s Brahms – the real one, I mean?”

Slightly irritated now, Angela picked up the porcelain boy and settled him comfortably on her hip, his head cradled on her shoulder, “This _is_ Brahms. The Heelshire’s have been using this doll as a coping mechanism after the death of their real son twenty years ago.” She’d been quickly clued in by Malcom when he’d popped back after the Heelshire’s left, correctly assuming that she would need some sort of explanation about what exactly was going on with the family, as well as if there had ever actually been a real Brahms.

“But why still take care of a doll? He’s not real and the Heelshire’s aren’t here to make sure you do it either. What’s the point?”

“I guess… I guess it helped me too, taking care of someone, some _thing_ else. It’s oddly soothing, and also it feels like he’s somehow still here, present in this room. It’s nice not to be alone again.”

“It’s creepy is what it is. Come on, seems to me you’ve been on your own for too long! Leave that thing here and let’s go chat outside since it’s so nice. I thought British weather was all rain!”

Angela hesitated, hands still safely holding the cool body of Brahms against herself, before thinking that if she let the other woman leave now, she wouldn’t have a proper conversation again for a long while most likely. She did miss exchanging the latest gossip with someone, she had to admit.

“I supposed you’re right…” She placed an absentminded kiss on Brahms’ cheek before carefully sitting him down on what she’d weeks previous dubbed _his_ chair in the music room, arranging all his limbs just so. “There’s some fresh iced lemonade in the fridge, I’ll go grab it and set up outside!” Angela hurried away, still fretting some over the fact she was leaving the doll alone.

Greta stayed in silence for a few seconds, trying to understand why this woman who seemed to be so sweet and kind was taking care of a _doll_ of all things before looking at said thing. She couldn’t help the shiver that raced up her spine at its eerie and empty gaze. Picking up a spare throw from one of the couches, she mentally apologised to Angela for what she was about to do.

“Sorry Brahms, but you’re just creepy.”

Throwing the blanket over the doll and covering it completely, Greta made her way out of the room to join Angela in the garden for some well-deserved rest after her long trip, mind and body slowly relaxing as she realised she was finally _free_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... sorry!!! Thought I'd have this updated much sooner than this.... 
> 
> Still, I want to thank you wonderful people who have reviewed and given kudos to this story, I am not worthy!!
> 
> Love you all xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter!! Thank you all who kudos'ed, commented, or bookmarked, you're all lovely people <3 
> 
> I've got the next chapter half-way done already so it should be out soon-ish. Unfortunately I'm super busy with work and tend to basically sleep whenever I'm not working so I don't really get to write much. Managed to catch a really good creative streak so here we've got its result!  
> I hope you guys enjoy xx

 

The rest of the day passed by rather uneventfully after the stressful morning, both women learning bits and pieces about each other as they conversed over the ice-cold, fresh-pressed orange juice Angela had made that morning in preparation for the hot weather that still lingered in the early days of September.

She was feeling slightly guilty about leaving Brahms alone in the house but reminded herself that he was just a doll in the end and could not feel anything in return - yet still she felt the need to be inside instead of enjoying the sun, something at the back of her mind telling her a storm was brewing that she could not yet see. Doing her best to ignore everything but Greta and their current surroundings, she tried to make the most of the lovely day they were having.

Later on, as dinner time approached, she heated up the left-overs from the previous day. Unfortunately there was only enough for two, as she had been portioning it between herself and Brahms not anticipating any guests, and so gave what would have gone to the freezer to Greta. She at least seemed to enjoy eating the food she made, which was a stark contrast to having Brahms stare emptily at a plate of food that would ultimately be left untouched.

As the evening went on, Angela felt her worries for Brahms slowly diminish to nothing, instead enjoying talking to Greta who was cautiously opening up about herself, talking about her life in America and mentioning in passing that the reason she’d left had to do with an ex boyfriend (why Greta felt the need to fly half-way across the world to get away from him made her slightly apprehensive on behalf of the other woman). By the time night rolled around they were both yawning and about to get ready for bed, and Angela hadn’t checked on Brahms a single time since leaving him in the music room.

Mind fuzzy with the need for sleep, Angela only thought to make sure to place him in his room the next day, sure that one night left alone wouldn’t hurt anyone though she still felt mildly guilty thinking back to the sad faces of the Heelshire’s.

Instead she crawled beneath the cool covers of her bed and made herself comfortable amidst her many pillows, finally let herself fall deep into slumber after a day of enjoying herself in the sun with Greta, Brahms left on his own in the large empty house that was his home.

\--

Deep in slumber, Angela did not hear her closet door slowly creak open, a tall figure moving unseen in the darkness of her bedroom. Said figure stepped up to her bed before stopping right by her sleeping face. It bent down, a sliver of moonlight highlighting a pale porcelain mask before it carefully buried itself in the crook of Angela’s bare neck, a deep inhale sounding from behind it.

As it had done now many nights in a row, it slowly crept onto the large bed beside the sleeping woman, laying down by her side on top of the covers, a large hand grasping one of hers. It had not taken the figure long to realise that when she slept, she did so deeply and soundly, not easily startling awake which was something it had quickly taken advantage of.

The cool porcelain of the mask rubbed against Angela’s neck causing goose bumps to spread over her skin. A light moan of discomfort escaped her lips at the cold sensation before she settled more comfortably in bed, accidently and incidentally closer to the still figure laying with her on her sheets.

The hand not holding her went to her hair, where it clumsily began carding through it.

“Pretty Angie…” The voice was high, as if that of a young boy, which contrasted heavily with the large frame of the figure before it went unexpectedly deep. “Pretty Angie broke the rules. She needs to be punished.”

The hand that had been somewhat gentle in her hair now gripped it hard, which woke Angela up though she was still very much bleary with sleep.

“What…?” She whispered. She could feel a weight across her waist and something tugging at her hair, the harsh grip slowly loosening once realising they had woken her.

“Shh, shh, shh…” The figure began carding their fingers in her hair again, slowly this time, voice high once again. “Pretty Angie needs to sleep. She will be punished later, but she must, she must.”

“Punished? I…” 

She was shushed again, this time a finger grazing her lips. “She broke the rules. Brahms is all alone downstairs with no kiss goodnight, and a strange guest sleeps in one of the rooms!”

Angela remained muddled with fatigue, the heat present in the air due to the late summer making her feel lax and heavy both physically and mentally. “Brahms…? I’m, I’m sorry Brahms, I’ll do better, I promise…” Coming to the conclusion she was dreaming, she shifted her position to throw an arm over the figure, cradling their head under her chin and close to her heart. “I’m sorry Brahms, I’m sorry…” She whispered, placing an absentminded yet loving kiss on the curls tickling her nose.

The figure froze, unsure at this turn of events. Each night it had sneaked into her bed the contact between them had been minimal to avoid waking her, yet here she was, holding him close to her as she fell back asleep. Dark eyes closed behind the porcelain mask, the tall figure relaxing in the woman’s embrace as it enjoyed the feel of another human being so close for the first time in many, many years.

\--

Next morning dawned quietly with a creeping chill in the air announcing the summer was slowly coming to an end, despite having previously appeared otherwise. Angela yawned as she stretched and started getting ready to wake Brahms. She’d managed to make it halfway through dressing before she remembered the previous day’s events. Gasp caught in her throat, she hurried to put the rest of her clothes on and shoved her messy bedhead into a ponytail before make her harried way downstairs.

“Good morning!” She heard as she passed Greta’s room, the open door showing the other woman unpacking her bag into the wardrobe and unfurling what seemed to be a lovely red dress before hanging it up by a hanger.

“Oh! Good morning Greta, I was just about to check on Brahms, it’s time for breakfast.”

A small, odd twitch passed on the woman’s face before she smiled, “Ah, let me come with you, I’ve forgotten the way to the kitchen and I’m starving!” Angela grinned back at her, before making her way back to the music room to pick up her small porcelain charge.

Opening the door, she quickly noticed that a plaid throw, which had previously been placed on the back of the couch, was laid on the floor at Brahms’ small feet. Wracking her brain to remember if she’d unconsciously wrapped him in it the evening before, she picked it up and folded it before setting in back in its previous spot. Grabbing Brahms, she carefully placed him on her hip, arranging his small limbs just so to avoid a hard knee in her gut. Placing a small kiss on his soft hair, she murmured a small apology for leaving him there the previous night all alone.

Turning around, she made her way back to Greta, whom held a very disconcerted look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” She said.

“I could have sworn…” Greta shook her head, “Never mind, let’s go, I’m starved!”

They chatted on their way to the kitchen where Angela laid Brahms in his seat, absentmindedly setting the table for both her and Greta before placing the customary plate in from of the small doll. Greta snorted lightly at that but she paid it no mind, simply continuing on as she had been for the past few weeks. Puttering about the kitchen, she prepared them all a quick breakfast, sipping on a cup of tea before plating a healthy heaping of toast, scrambled eggs, and baked beans for each of them, placing down glasses of orange juice and cups of tea for Greta and Brahms as well.

Thankful for the food, Greta simply mumbled her gratitude before digging in, deciding not to mention how ridiculous it was to give actual food to a child who was obviously not real. Devouring her breakfast she finally slowed down around the half-way mark, wanting to make small talk to her host and find out a bit more about the odd situation that she was now part of.

“So,” Greta said, carefully chewing and swallowing a bite of her buttered toast, “Why exactly are you giving it food? It’s a doll.”

Angie smiled ruefully back at the other woman, before excusing herself from the room with a quick “Be right back,”. Minutes later, she returned with a slip of paper that she gave to Greta to read.

“These are the rules I was given before the Heelshire’s left.”

Greta looked at her before quickly reading through it. “No guests, never leave Brahms alone, … Only Malcolm brings deliveries? Who is Malcolm? Also, what kind of list is this? Why on Earth are you even following this for?”

Angela shrugged a shoulder, taking the empty plates to start cleaning them as well as scraping Brahms’ breakfast into a Tupperware box. “Malcolm, as it states, is the one who bring my groceries every Friday, as well as my pay. The list is just the rules that I’m meant to follow whilst I work here as the live-in nanny. Honestly, it’s not as bad as you think.”

Placing the Tupperware box in the big freezer by the wall, she continued, “It passes the time, really. I get to read all of the books in their library, I get to practice music as much as I like, and the grounds around the house are lovely in this weather even if I have to take care of the dead rats in the traps.”

She sighed at the incredulous look Greta was sending her but before she could add anything there was a loud crash from somewhere in the house that startled them both badly, Greta letting out a small shriek of fright. Exchanging a look of fear, Angela quickly grabbed a knife from one of the drawers, motioning for Greta to stay at her back.

Cautiously both women started making their way to where they had heard the noise originate which they quickly found to be the music room where the window was open wide, a strong wind blowing the light curtains in great billows. The source of the crash was discovered to be one of the small tables close to the window just by Brahms’ usual seat, which was toppled over on the floor with the books previously resting upon it scattered about.

Angela ran to close the window, careful of the large butcher’s knife in her hand, before throwing a bewildered look at the other woman. Neither could remember the window being open when they’d left. Slowly, they made their way back to the kitchen, deciding that another pot of tea was in order to calm their frayed nerves.

Greta, who was walking in front, stopped dead upon arriving at the door to the kitchen, breath hitching in her lungs. Angela, curious to see what had stopped the woman dead in her tracks, peered around her shoulder to look at what it could be.

There was a loud clatter as the knife she’d held in a loose grip dropped to the ground, hand slack in shock. Facing them from the head of the table, Brahms’ pale porcelain face showed no clue to how he had moved from his usual seat on the side to his new position in Angela’s usual chair, eyes a cold marble staring straight at them.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to get this off my chest because ever since seeing Brahms crawl out of the mirror I have been v v v bothered.  
> I blame all the wonderful authors who have fed my fantasies.   
> More to come soon, I currently have 7k worth of words, and am nowhere near done!


End file.
